


in vino tomgreg

by lancegwenarthur



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, they go wine tasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancegwenarthur/pseuds/lancegwenarthur
Summary: they go to california bc it's my fic and i decide where the world's best wine country ishonestly this probably isn't good but audrey and i thought of this sitting in a train station cafe somewhere in france and like ao3 is free so here we are
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	in vino tomgreg

**Author's Note:**

> not completely accurate depiction of the named winery, of wine tasting, or what it's like to be tall

Greg could tell that he’d exasperated Tom the minute the order was out of his mouth, but he didn’t start berating him until the waiter had left.

“All this work I’ve done on you, and you still order a white with beef. Honestly, Greg, why do I bother?”

“I just, well, the wine sounded nice, and so did the steak, and, if they both taste good…”

(Dramatic zoom on the priceless face Tom makes at this point.) “You’re such an ignorant, mouth-breathing loser.”

He looked around the restaurant as Tom got his yayas out. He’d learned not to look around when they walked to their table, because that would make him look impressed, and being impressed was not a Roy state of mind.

He tuned back in when Tom made a suggestion.

“Hey. I know how to fix this. We’re going to California.”

“What? Now?”

“No, not now, you dimwit. Next weekend.”

“I was gonna…”

“No you weren’t.”

The next weekend, Greg was on a Roy private jet with Tom, headed to California.

Greg had gotten on the plane without knowing why they were going. He was hit by dry, warm air as he walked off the plane and into a car. Tom turned to him and he got an explanation/villain’s-secret-plan-reveal speech.

“I’ve booked us a wine tasting at Silver Oak. I’m going to turn you into a connoisseur.” He was manic as always, leaning into Greg in the backseat that they were squished into and waxing rhapsodic about Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs.

When they got out at the winery, Greg thought that it was a nice weekend trip idea, hanging out at a beautiful chateau shaded by live oaks and surrounded by vineyards. It was peaceful, and he sucked in a lungful of fresh air.

Tom walked backward over the gravel, still talking about the transformation Greg was about to experience. He always had to do the most dramatic and expensive thing he could do in any situation, and he always had to make it known that it was the most dramatic and expensive thing. It was kind of nice when all of that energy was focused on doing something for you, though.

They were led out to a patio at the back of the building.

“See? This is real wine. You would probably still drink Franzia, you piece of shit.”

Greg would still drink Franzia, but he wasn’t sure that it was a personality flaw.

Tom said something polite about the first batch to the...were they called a waiter in this situation?, but Greg was kind of zoning out and just staring at Tom’s eyelashes. The weather, the scenery, the general atmosphere were so ideal. Greg was floating along until Tom literally snapped his fingers in his face.

“Hey, man!” 

“I’m trying to give you a world-class experience, and you’re not appreciating it."

“I do! I do appreciate it! I...I really appreciate you, like, taking me places and spending money on things you’ve already done just so I can do them, too, because you know I haven’t.” Greg shifted on his stool, planting his feet right on the ground like no one was supposed to be able to, and set his latest glass down. “But, like, I do wish you didn’t have to, um, yell at me so much while you’re doing it.” He’d been talking for a while, but kept going. “Why do you hang out with me so much if I frustrate you so much with my ‘Philistine tendencies’?”

Tom looked taken aback that Greg had been rude enough to remember that particular rant. Greg tended to internalize that kind of thing, so he remembered all of the rants.

“You’re a Roy! You should benefit from that in every way you can! I mean, it’s fun! Look how much fun we’re having right now! And as to why I bother with you--which no one else is doing, by the way--we’re buddies!”

“But, like, why are we buddies?” It wasn’t that Greg didn’t want to be buddies, he just didn’t really know how they had gotten here, and that bothered him because he couldn’t analyze what he couldn’t understand. He watched Tom taste a red that had been described to them as “robust,” or more accurately watched Tom’s lips and felt like he was on an event horizon, and waited.

“Well, I…” Tom did that thing where he tilted his head and looked upwards. “We work together, and we’re family, and, ha, you’re nice. You’re actually nice. It’s such a relief for me, and it makes you the person I want to spend time with. I don’t feel weakened after talking to you. I feel better.”

(Second dramatic zoom, on Greg absorbing that emotion.) “Oh, wow. Uh, thanks. You too! Uh.” Greg looked down at his slacks, then out at the hills in the distance. They were spotted with clumps of trees that made them look like the cows Greg had seen from the car on the way from the airport.

“But, then again, maybe I’m just doing all this as a long game to get you to blow me.”

That evening found them having dinner and not really building on their earlier conversation (should Greg compliment Tom’s shirt? Would he hire a Russian assassin if he started playing footsie?) over farm to table food that was comfortingly not drowned alive.

Then, because this was Greg’s life, the ground started shaking. They were only going to spend twenty-four hours in California, and an earthquake had to happen during that time, didn’t it? Tom dragged Greg under the table with him, except they of course didn’t fit, so they just sort of kneeled with their heads under the table. When the shaking stopped, Greg realized that they were holding hands.


End file.
